The rhythmatic beating of the drums suddenly pierced the air. From where I did not know. Quickly looking around, multiple sets of feet began to appear from behind a mud walled, grass thatched hut. To the shock of the Maasai, I laid down in their village dirt floor to capture this shot. Against the roasted brown backdrop of the African veld, the unfolding, stomping line of bright colors of the Maasai dancers were quite a sight.

Stalks your livestock and family outside the open door of your hut every night.

You protect yourself from the Lion with what nature provides. Cutting branches from acacia trees, with their 3” long thorns that do not bend, the Maasai weave a 6’ tall thorn fence around their villages on the Serengeti.

What I think is amazing about these hands are the numerous age lines and the texture. I found these hands out on the Serengeti. They belong to a Maasai warrior to be who had been herding his tribe’s cattle all of his life.

‘give us the strength to do the work that we have started here – here being the land implanted into Massailand by their Fathers – which will grow and thrive ‘like the oreteti tree that is green even in times of drought’.

Watching her stand outside her very simple home, I wondered if this elderly Maasai woman was hoping that in 50 years, the life and rich culture of her Massai tribe and culture will still exist as it always has been.